


Weaving Dreams

by KibblerEars



Series: Dreams in the Night [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Implied Murder, Implied Relationships, Implied because it can sound like there's something sexual going on but there isn't, M/M, Multi, and so I don't want to trigger anyone accidentally, implied rape, murderous intent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KibblerEars/pseuds/KibblerEars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his dreams, they lure the innocent into their decadence.  In his dreams, they drown in the tantalizing rush of adrenaline.  In his dreams, they fall, together, into the fiery destruction of their inner darkness. In his dreams, they are far from heroes.</p><p>In his dreams, they destroy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weaving Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> As of this moment, this is unbeta'd, so I apologize if there is anything amiss within the text.
> 
> Thanks in advance for reading!

Steve used to have a dream where the sun was shining, high and bright as it danced through the morning air, brining light and warmth to all who it touched. Where he watched people on their way to work rush by from the safe privacy of their little hidden balcony; where he could see tourists stroll by, still brushing sleep out of their eyes but bouncing with the thought of seeing a new city and all the wonders nestled within its population. Where the smell of sea salt tickled his nose and the sound of ocean waves crashing against the beach was a soothing lullaby that made him forget the things he had seen and done.

In his dreams, he would sit on a deck chair, its harsh wicker weaves imprinting their pattern upon his bare, tanned legs. His hair would blow in the wind, standing up on end in a way that would make his companion give him a sly little smirk even as he tapped his toes against the solid flesh of Steve's calf. In his dreams, the other's smile would shine across the small table at him, brighter than even the sun in the sky; the only light Steve would ever need in his world. His messy dark hair would dance a slow waltz with the summer breeze and his eyes would twinkle with a mischief few could understand.

Steve would long to reach across the space between them, to run his hand along the other's cheek. He would long to feel the scratch of his carefully scuplted facial hair under his nails, to feel that familiar shiver of his partner's arousal building at Steve's touch.

But even in his dreams, he would resist. Because Steve knew that sly lip curl. He knew what hid in the depths of his companion's mind and Steve's mouth would twist into a matching smirk.

His chocolate gaze would be drawn by the sway of another's hips as she saunters past, clad in a simple sundress perfect for the Carribbean weather. Steve had been told that should make him jealous; that he should never gaze upon another with that twinkle in his eye. He'd been told it should enrage him and Steve should forbid him from doing such things. After all, they would say, why would Steve dare let his partner's eyes wander when they all knew that where wandering eyes gaze, wandering hands will follow.

They did not know that Steve's own gaze is drawn by those same hips. That his own eyes wander with his companion's.

And not a one knew that their hands always wander. Not a one knew that they weave nightly orchestras over the smooth flesh of those that would attract - and hold - their mutual attention. Their hands wander the way their minds and feet wander - aimless, yet purposeful. Leisurely, yet determined. Their bodies sing their own private music that they share only with the few who catch their eye. And as the night falls, when they are finished, their hands and gaze always find their homes on each other until only darkness and them remain.

In Steve's dream, his partner's gaze returns to his and their thoughts are one for yet another brief moment as they rise together to follow the newest attraction. Their hands entwine between them, their eyes returning to their new prey, only several feet ahead of them. Their breath comes in unison, their hearts beat out a rising staccato as the adrenaline begins to pump in their veins.

Her fear cloaks her, covering them both in a sheath of delight and desire more absolute and solid than the flimsy dress she will not have much need of soon. Her mouth whimpers pleas and platitudes that perfectly fit their orchestra.

In Steve's dreams, his companion's hands are a dark tan against her pale flesh. His smile is a twisted curse that Steve adores but others despise. In his dreams, his partner is the night and Steve is the stars and moon that light the way as his love snuffs out the life they have found before them. And when she falls under them, when her last breath escapes her body, and his partner lets her drop with a falsely tender care, then he turns to Steve again. He pulls him close, almost trying to crawl into Steve's skin, his lips on Steve's as they fall into each other and their own dark perversion.


End file.
